


The Journey of the Prince of Fayar

by spn_j2fan



Series: Journey 'verse [1]
Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Claiming, Collars, KINK: D/s, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Space Opera, Spanking, journey 'verse, the journey of the prince of fayar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 13:12:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spn_j2fan/pseuds/spn_j2fan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Upon his 23rd year, Jared, the prince and sole heir to the throne of Fayar, embarks on a 2-year journey to capture and tame his life's mate. As he departs, he leaves his world without a reigning monarch, and fears both the journey ahead of him, and the turmoil he left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The beginning

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N 1:** Written in response to the wonderful spn_hardcore non-con prompt from pelde : AU future or past where Jared is part of a warrior clan that goes on a quest to find their mate on each member's 25th birthday. When Jared sees Jensen he knows immediately he has found his mate and kidnaps Jensen home to his clan for the mating/marriage ceremony. Jensen's opinions about this don't matter to Jared because he was raised to believe the strong conquer the weak and that his quest was meant to be. Lots of manhandling, tossing over the shoulder, and/or spanking to make Jensen behave please. Its up to the author whether or not Jensen eventually falls in love with Jared.
> 
>  **A/N 2:** This is the first part of a long verse. I am rereading and editing so that I can get in the right mindset and finish soon. Posting here can only help, right? :) While this first story is non-con, written for a specific non-con request, the overall verse seeks to rectify the initial assault and create a relationship that can save two worlds and an entire planetary system. I intend on posting either every day, or every other day until I reach the end of what I have written, and then my aim is to post bi-weekly so that I can finish this without rushing it too much. I have had a lot of fun writing this. Please let me know what you think.

“Today is the day, son,” Leader Jeff smirked, turning his attention toward the luxury fleet ship hovering in the open dock, awaiting Jared’s quest. The glimmer in Jeff’s eye revealed so much, but offered no answer to Jared’s most basic of questions.

“Today?” Jared gulped, singling out and repeating just one of his father’s words. “How can that be? I am only twenty-three. It is still almost two cycles of changes before I must choose a mate.” It was the path he anticipated, yearned for even, but did not expect to set out upon until he achieved his twenty-fifth ascension—nearly two annums from today.

His father laughed, the sound muffled by the flowing, silvery gossamer sleeve of his most prized consort—an obvious gesture of comfort. Jeff pushed her away as he stood, motioning for her to leave in the same moment.

“You are meant for the throne, son,” Leader Jeff replied. “You know as well as I that it is your destiny. And your mate must be of the finest quality.” He slowly, calculatedly, circled his only son: the heir to the throne of Fayar. “That is why you must travel so far. It is only on Pershebe that you can seek your life’s companion.”

Jared knew it to be true. Every ruler for the last thousand generations had traveled to the distant reaches of the universe to capture and tame their true soul mate. His mother was the exception; she was wild in her youth and bucked authority at every opportunity. Magre, the beautiful, had traveled but a few light years from Fayar, and had brought home her ‘soul mate’—the man who fathered Jared, the man who left Jared motherless, although the young prince could never prove Jeff’s guilt—less than six months later.

Even to this day, Jared vowed silently to bring his father—the corrupt bastard who had wooed the lovely Magre and stripped her of everything, including her life—to justice.

Jared turned toward the sleek starship. It would be his home for the next two years—four years if he included the return journey. How could he refuse? His father was offering what every father before him offered the heir to the throne for as long as Fayarian history had been written. But never before had a prince left without a ruling monarch in place. His father was referred to as “Leader Jeff” for a reason. He could never aspire to the throne. He could never actually assume authority, unless Jared died before his quest was complete.

That was the reason Jeff held the title of “Leader” and nothing grander. The monarchy was a direct bloodline. The only way Jeff could ever be King was if Jared passed and his one and only cousin, Alona, ascended to the throne in his place. And even then, Alona would have to willingly wed Jeff.

Jared grinned as he hugged his father, a new plan forming in his mind. “Thank you, Father. You have always placed my best interests in the forefront.”

Jeff’s hug was never sturdier, until Jared continued, “I will gladly depart on my journey the day after Alona weds her beloved.” The prince thought about his younger cousin and her heart’s desire, Aldis. He was from a distant culture, but had lived within the realm of Fayar long enough to understand both the depths and constraints placed upon him as companion to a ruling monarch.

Jeff’s reply was exactly as Jared had anticipated.

“Of course, My Lord.”

His smooth tongue never evaded Jeff. That was what concerned Jared the most. He would have to discuss it with Alona before he departed. But in the mean time…there were wedding plans to make, and Jared smiled at the thought. He genuinely wanted to see his cousin, his closest companion, find happiness.

______________

The tents were erected. Jared could not see beyond them in any direction. He had consulted with the Weathersmiths to ensure that the skies would shine favorably as his dearest friend and closest relative consummated her vows with her life’s companion.

Jared smiled fondly. He watched as Aldis showered attention upon Alona, and only hoped that someday someone would feel the same way about him. But the odds were against Jared. He was setting out on a journey to capture and tame a mate who had no desire to be broken, or even to bend. His mate would fight and struggle. His mate would hate him and scream aloud-scandalous proclamations about the heir of Fayar that no one would willingly believe, but would remember until the day Jared died, or until his mate accepted his authority. Either way, it would be a battle that Jared loathed. Probably the reason his mother, the exquisite Magre, had chosen what at the time seemed like a simpler journey.

But in choosing what seemed the easier of two difficult paths, in fact, Magre had allowed genuine evil into her palace. And in her wake, Jared was left to pull the pieces together and find his own way.

“Jared!” Alona’s sweet voice drew him back to this wondrous event. “Thank you, My Liege!” She bowed low, and the trains of her bridal arrangement were sullied in the mud. “You have granted me my greatest desire!”

Jared laughed whole-heartedly. She was pure, as were her intentions. “I have granted you nothing, my dear, sweet cousin. You have earned your reward. And in my absence, I expect that you and the one you hold dear will act on my behalf.”

Alona drew up straight, slowing her breath and resisting her innate need to comfort her dearest, oldest friend.

“Are you well?” She asked cautiously.

“Very well,” Jared replied. “And I am so happy to be here today to see you confirm what I have known, and what you have shared with me for so long. Go, my most trusted ally. Marry your beloved. And if all goes wrong for me, remember that I always believed in you.”

“Jared?” Alona gasped. But at that moment her courtiers sped her away.

The Heir of Fayar wandered toward the main tent, looking forward to the day's festivities and dreading the task set before him. Not because he had no wants. He had great and grandiose dreams. But he feared leaving for such a long period of time, and he feared that he would be unable to adequately tame his mate.

"You are my heart's desire," Alona vowed beneath the shade of the main tent, lowering her forehead so that when Aldis made his promise and dipped his own, they would be joined.

"And you are mine," Aldis proclaimed, far louder than was necessary, but it had its desired effect of silencing the crowd.

Jared grinned, slowly walking away. He'd left everything he needed Alona to know in a note. Now it was his turn. His adventure. Not even the Weathersmiths could dictate what was to come.

_____________

Jensen groaned. It was at the end of a day’s hard labor when the alarms clanged throughout the villages. The sound spread quickly, rising in tenor as it shrilled over the mountains and across the flatlands. He was ready for a meal and a vas of cool water, perhaps even a clean, dampened towel to wipe away the earth and sweat, but not a drill, never a drill.

“Go!” His mother urged, pushing Jensen off his chair and out the door toward the underground passages where all of Pershebe’s youth hid until the alarms ceased and their loved ones came to claim them.

“Ma,” he complained. “It’s been nearly fifty turns of the tide since men have descended from the sky and any child of Pershebe has been taken. Why must we continue this archaic tradition? I would rather study and be ready for exams tomorrow.”

The last Taking was years before Jensen’s birth and he had no fear of strangers from the stars landing in the plains and absconding with a Pershebian youth before the Fighters could even assemble and stage a counterattack. Oh, he had heard the stories of Pershebe’s most beautiful, most intelligent young men and women disappearing into the sky and never returning, but saw no reason to worry. It was a distant memory, a concern in the eyes of the Elders alone. As far as he knew, there wasn’t a single youth in his classes who feared a Taking.

“Do you think that studying the plants and their poisons, the sounds of the planet, or even the strategies of battle will help you when they come?” His mother demanded, shaking her head and leaving him no reason to answer. “Of course not! Those dreams and ambitions of yours will be lost to us all if you cannot hide yourself. Now, go!”

With one last groan Jensen headed toward the nearest entrance to the tunnels. He knew the way by heart. Whether from home, farm or Academy, Jensen could get there in light or dark, in rain or fog. Shrugging unconsciously, he thought that at least there would be cool water to drink and underground waterfalls to wash away the grime left from the day’s toil. And there would be food, plenty of food. It might be a long night; there was never any hint to when a drill would end. The youth of Pershebe simply sat and waited, passing the time as easily as possible, until they were summoned to the surface again. Hopefully his instructors would understand if he was not prepared in the morning.

______________

It was a long voyage—nearly two annums since Jared had last seen his homeland, and almost one since he had spoken with Alona. Despite centuries of royal travel to the distant planet, communication continued to be a difficulty once they passed through the Radon Bands. The Comm workers had yet to resolve the problem, but being that such a distant trip only occurred when an heir to the throne reached maturity—for only the heir could chose a mate from Pershebe—it didn’t seem to be a pressing issue.

Jared worried now, though. His last communication with Alona was ominous. Despite his warnings, he thought it possible that both Alona and her Aldis were falling under the mystical spell cast by his father. Why was it that Jared alone was immune? Perhaps he and his father had too much in common, and that thought itself was terrifying.

They were within range of the planet that held his mate—the one who would share Jared’s life—though they hovered far enough away that they could await the moment of their attack well beyond the sight of Pershebe’s inhabitants.

Jared took the time to consider those people who dwelled just beyond his vision. The life of one of them would be changed forever after this day. What were they called? Pershebans? Pershebiites? It didn’t matter in the end, his mate would be a Fayarian soon enough.

“It is time, My Lord,” the faithful General Beaver reported.

They had spent the better part of two years planning this mission; there was no need to discuss specifics now. They would land midday, when the youth would be scattered from beachfront to mountaintop. The logs of previous journeys to Pershebe helped shape their strategy. Each time the warriors of Fayar approached, the locals would have a new plan, a new tactic to keep from relinquishing their young. One youth? Was it really worth all that effort to protect one beauty of Pershebe from what was sure to be a better life? Didn’t they know how prestigious it was to be the mate of the future King or Queen of Fayar?

Jared simply shook his head as he checked his weapons a third time and set his mind to combat mentality. This was not his first foray onto the battlefield, and despite the superiority of their armaments and the element of surprise, he would not take it lightly.

He looked down at his loyal general. “I am prepared,” he stated regally.

_________________

Ahhh! The _septama’s_ end had finally arrived, and Jensen would celebrate in his own way. Solitude was his most extravagant self-indulgence, and he looked forward to pampering himself thoroughly.

Everyone in his class had been awarded reprieve on the preceding _Lunae Des_ due to the sixteen hour enclosure they had been forced to endure in the caverns the night before. Nevertheless, the Learners were furious and therefore impatient all week—even if it was not the fault of their students. If manuals of instruction had been maintained within the underground strongholds, as the scholars had requested, their disciples would have been prepared for the start of a new septama. As it was, Jensen had studied and was prepared for the exams before the drill, but it didn’t benefit him in the least—exams had been postponed for another _septama_!

Once let loose from the constraints of Academy, it all worked to Jensen’s advantage: He was already prepared for the upcoming exams and that left him free to search for the herbs and berries few students had the confidence to even discuss aloud. Jensen’s parents were long aware of his vulnerability to the allure of nature’s most lethal elements. But at the same time, Jensen had a desire to learn all there was to know about everything his world had to share with him.

Today, he was searching along the banks of the Risach River for the most developed Pelunga berries that Pershebe had seen in more than a septacentennium. He would not have ventured so far from home if it hadn’t been for Tom’s assurance that the elusive berries were ripe and ready for reaping—and the recent drill, of course. No two drills came within a _septama’s_ span, so Jensen was certain that his absence would not be noticed.

He had few friends at Academy since Christian’s completion and rise to the rank of Fighter. Few achieved that grade directly from Academy, but Chris was an exception. Just slightly more than a single turn of the tide older than Jensen, Christian had no fear, or at least no real love of life, and that made him an intimidating foe—one whose very demeanor could fill any enemy’s heart with terror.

Jensen would never achieve that status. Sure, he had fought, winning more often than not, but he knew himself well. He was meant for scholarly achievements. If he made a name for himself, it would not be on a field bathed in violence and bloodshed, it would be through his studies and how they might benefit his people. It was a concept few understood, and was completely anathema to his dearest friend.

He spotted them immediately, the ground was quite flat here, and Pelunga berries, while small, were bright, nearly fluorescent, orange orbs when fully ripened. Even under the darkening sky, they stood out, and Jensen hurried toward them. He needed the full yield of several bushes to extract enough of their curious white liquid to conduct the experiments he had in mind.

It was long rumored that if the berries were drained and the resulting juices were prepared correctly, Pelunga nectar could make even the most cowardly of liars divulge their greatest faults and deceptions. He wondered wryly upon whom he would be able to test his newest concoction. It could only be a volunteer, for all other experimentation was illegal. But even if it were not, Jensen had no desire to injure a fellow inhabitant. Oh, he knew the mixture to be safe, the aspiring alchemist had started his work with plants and grasses and slowly graduated to animals—simple, barely visible ones first, and later the larger ones that bore the brunt of the labor on his father’s farm. Certainly the potion would not result in a physical injury, but he was similarly unwilling to be the direct source of an emotional one.

It was just as he stripped his seventh bush of its yield that the alarms left him awash in concern. Never were there two drills in a week. It was one of the few things the youth of Pershebe could depend on. It was now _Diapente Des_ , just five days since the end of the last drill. That meant…

“Shit!” Jensen exclaimed as he scanned his surroundings for the nearest entry to the passages. He had ventured far from his home—deep into the plain regions. The young, would-be scholar knew from the moment he reached his fifteenth turn of the tides and was required to participate in the drills—now nearly five tide’s past—that once the alarms sounded he had mere minutes to find his way underground.

If this was real, if this was actually happening, there was no way for him to find shelter before the Landing. He looked around him and debated what to do. Should he stand and fight or should he seek what little shelter the plains offered? Jensen knew what Christian would do, but would he do the same?

Without further thought, he dove behind the bushes that moments earlier he had been harvesting, and found himself surrounded by the tall grasses he knew so well. A chill settled upon him immediately, and for the first time in his life, he truly feared the Taking.

________________

Jared growled and paced as they descended from just beyond the cover of the clouds and swiftly made their descent to the ground. Just seconds before landing, he grabbed the nearest rail and held tight, anticipating a sudden, jolting impact. It was imperative that they make landfall as quickly as possible. It was a lesson learned from the detailed logs of previous ventures to the distant planet. If they gave the locals an early warning of their arrival, there would be blood lost for sure. While the prince would do what he must to ensure success, he had no desire to see lives forfeited.

When the doors flew open and the Presages deployed, his body and desires were beyond his control. Jared followed the first wave through the open hatch immediately. The heir was young, no doubt, but knew himself to be sure-footed, so when he stumbled and landed face-first in the unfamiliar soil, he drew his favorite weapon and prepared for attack.

“Get up!” The familiar voice of his loyal general snarled and then lightened to a more concerned, warning tone. “No matter what your body feels or where you are drawn, you must follow our plan, Jared. The Presages must gather the candidates first—it is always the way. Allow them to do as they have been trained and save yourself from unnecessary peril.”

It took all his strength and discipline to remain where he now stood rather than to seek his destiny alone.

 

_____________

It was so close—the huge vessel that dropped precipitously from the sky was now no more than a farling away. Jensen could see movement, but was unable to make out exactly whoever or whatever was disembarking. Dread settled within him, and he did his best to remain motionless amidst the tall grass.

He glanced up every few minutes, making quite certain to keep his movements slow. Any rapid motion was likely to attract the attention of the swarm of men fast approaching. Jensen watched as they fanned out in all directions, a notable number steadily progressing in his direction. Could they see him? Surely not, for he was deep in the grass, the Pelunga bushes between them and he. So perhaps if he remained motionless, they might pass him by without conflict. The young man lowered his head and vowed to remain still despite the increasing noise around him.

The ominous timbre of an unfamiliar word shouted out from nearly atop him left Jensen responding not with reason or plan, but with sheer, unbridled terror. Rolling to his left to avoid the outstretched arms of the man dressed in crimson and silver, Jensen rose to his feet and ran as if his life depended on it and the Great Darkness loomed before him—it most likely did. He had not taken but a few strides when a hand reached out from behind another bush and stopped his progress.

“Christian!” Jensen rasped between panted breaths, “Why are you stopping me? We must run!”

“I am stopping you only to get between them and you,” the older man replied calmly. “Now we can run.” And with that, they both flew as fast as their feet could carry them, Christian steadfastly maintaining his position between Jensen and the unknown horde.

It was only a matter of moments before the crimson and silver uniforms surrounded them and more unfamiliar words showered upon their ears.

Christian drew to his full height and, as always, appeared quite ominous in Jensen’s estimation. Chris slowly unsheathed his weapon of choice and prepared to mount a one-man assault on the vastly outnumbering enemy. The closest crimson-clad adversary merely grinned and the flash from something darting from his hand preceded Christian’s crash to the ground by less than a second.

“Christian!” Jensen shouted, rushing to his friend’s side. At the same moment that he felt a sting slither down his left side and found himself crumpling to the soil, Jensen looked up and watched as the clouds darkened further and the first hint of rain fell upon his cheek. He saw the sign for what it was: a portent of what little light still remained of his life. His eyes closed and he welcomed the Great Darkness.

_______________

“What do you mean, you found two but returned with only one?” Jared demanded, his tone harsh to even his own ears. He vowed to rein in his emotion and allow reason to guide his voice.

“The other was too old, My Liege,” the oldest, most seasoned Presage responded smoothly. “We see only those who have achieved between fifteen to twenty ascensions, and the one we retained was the only one who drew our vision. The older only arose from the bushes to hinder our mission, raising an offensive hand when they were surrounded.” The man lowered his head in deference to Jared before continuing, “I assure you, my prince, we would have brought both with us if they had both been suitable candidates. But we left the older one to awaken after our departure, with no memory of our presence, of course. The one we did bring is quite promising though, ceasing his attempt at escape to return to aid his fallen friend.”

 _His?_ Jared thought. He let out a sigh and gestured for the Presage to depart, hoping that the other teams had brought back more appealing selections.

It was time—time for him to look upon the candidates that were assembled against their will in the grass outside his transport vessel. The prince stepped toward the great portal that allowed him to stare out but allowed none to peer in. Only his chosen mate would have the pleasure of seeing him. It was the Fayarian way. Even though each unselected candidate would be left with no recollection of this event, seeing the heir to the throne was an honor bestowed upon one resident of Pershebe, and one alone.

First, he looked up and frowned at the closing sky above him. The rain pouring down would surely obscure his view—he couldn’t demand the intercession of the Weathersmiths here, so far from home—and it vexed him to think his search for his life’s mate would be hindered by something as insignificant as uncooperative weather. But the moment Jared’s mind determined that it was time to turn his attention to the contenders, a sudden, gut-wrenching reaction stirred deep within him. It was nothing he had ever experienced before, and he wanted to feel more. His gaze was unwittingly drawn to a stunning youth who stood proud and alone.

It was a…man! A young, beautiful man, but a man nonetheless. It was not unheard of that a Fayarian heir might make such a claim, but Jared had never had such an inclination, so the revelation itself took him by surprise.

Even as Jared was beginning to understand what was happening to him, the Presages were already descending upon the crowd and pulling the resisting youth toward the ship. It would be only moments before he stood an arm’s reach from his one and only true mate, and vanished back into the skies. Jared forced himself to take slow, steady breaths to calm the subtle tremor in his hands. Today of all days, he must maintain a noble and dominant demeanor. His future mate deserved that much.

The prince let a breath out slowly as the youth was gently prodded into the room and the door closed behind him. He found himself yearning to touch, to feel, to coddle and claim the young man standing wide-eyed before him. Jared counseled himself that even if his feelings were beyond his control, his actions were not. So he allowed his gaze to linger on his mate where his hands, as yet, could not. And he looked his fill.

The youth stood tall before him—just inches shorter than Jared’s height—and tried to mask the trembling in his limbs. The prince started his visual journey at the bare feet resting in a small puddle of rainwater and covered in mud; and then allowed his eyes to drift upward, along strong, cloth-covered legs to the slim waist and flat abs that were masked only by a thin, wet shirt clinging desperately to goose-pimpled flesh. In one hand, the youth clutched the handle of a basket as if it offered protection, and Jared wondered why the Presages had allowed him to keep it. He had no fear, if its contents presented a danger to the Heir of Fayar, the seekers would have taken it from him. The prince wanted to see more skin, but he would have to wait for that.

He continued his upward path, allowing his eyes to linger upon the firm jaw and lush lips.

Stunning indeed! This man stirred emotions in Jared that none before had ever done. Never once had the sleek, firm muscle of a man’s body or the hint of fur upon cheeks invaded Jared’s senses, but today was a new day.

Finally, he settled his vision upon the crystal-clear eyes that returned his gaze with a steady glare. They were a color Jared had never seen before. Oh, some on Fayar had green eyes, but the depth and clarity these possessed stole Jared’s breath. Those eyes alone seemed capable of piercing the prince’s skin.

________________

Jared felt the rattle of the engines as they purred to life. He had pushed the button that slid a sheet of metal in place, covering his viewing portal. He would not have his mate stare out upon Pershebe again. After all, from this day forward, his mate was Fayarian.

“Who are you to take me from my home?!” The youth demanded. He started in Jared’s direction, puddles and mud left in his wake. The remnants of the heavy rain still dripped from his hair and clothes.

Jared held a rail, anticipating the jolt of the take-off. He had no fear of the youth’s attack. He may be a prince, but he was far from doted upon. He had served in the front lines of two major battles and countless skirmishes, and kept his body well muscled and fit. And he knew that the boy was unfamiliar with the feel of a spaceship. The prince’s new companion would surely be startled by the movement, and would likely end up on the ground. It was an angle Jared looked forward to seeing him from, so he said nothing as he waited for the familiar feel of the ship rising from the ground.

Sure enough, with the first jolt, the youth slipped in the puddles and lost his balance, landing on hands and knees within reach of the prince. Jared could not hold back a soft laugh and the grin that followed.

“Seek you to make a slave of me?” The youth growled, some of his bravado slipping and a slight quiver tainting his tone. “I will never allow it! I will take my life first…or yours!” With that, the young man surged forward, intent on grabbing Jared about the knees and bringing him down to the ground with him.

Jared stepped back, easily evading the attack, even as the youth continued to edge forward. “Seek you to ruin this joyous meeting so soon?” He asked sincerely. “I have waited my whole life to meet you.”

Jensen froze. The sound of his own language stunned him, and took a bit of the fight from him. “You speak…”

“All royals of Fayar are required to learn your language. How else can we tame our mate? Pershebans? Pershebiites? What do your former people call themselves?” Jared’s questions were simple and straightforward. He had never spoken the language before, other than in his studies. He hoped to make a good first impression.

“Tame? Mate?” Jensen muttered, staring in amazement. “Pershebians. We are Pershebians.”

“No, my love,” Jared corrected softly, nodding toward the hull of the ship. He gathered himself to his full height and continued regally, “ _They_ are Pershebians. _You_ are the chosen mate of the Heir of Fayar. So I ask you again. Do you wish to fight me every day? A battle you will always lose, by the way. Do you really want to ruin this day, and my good favor, when all you must do to retain it is bow before me and offer yourself?”

Jensen’s reply was swift and without forethought. He dove forward and slammed into the arrogant foreigner, bringing them both to the floor and soiling Jared’s clothing. The door slid open immediately and four guardsmen entered. The heir turned their positions quickly, straddling the younger man and pinning his arms to his sides. While tall and handsome, his mate was still young, and his strength was no match for that of the prince.

The guardsmen held back, grinning at how easily their liege had regained control. Jared signaled for them to leave, and once again, he was alone with his new companion.

He leaned forward and licked a trail along his mate’s cheek, tasting the sweat and tears clinging there. The young man turned his head and resumed his struggles.

“I guess I have your answer then,” Jared chuckled. “I am Jared, prince and heir to the throne of Fayar. What do they call you?”

Jensen pressed his lips together. He would offer nothing to the man who towered over him and held him in place so easily.

“You are dirty and in need of a bath and new clothing, but before I offer you any such kindness, you will give me this,” Jared vowed. He frowned as the youth maintained his silence.

The prince lifted up, using his strong thighs to hold his weight, and rolled the boy onto his stomach. When he lowered himself again, he settled into place low across the youth’s thighs, the prince’s greater weight pressing his new mate firmly against the floor. Jared folded both of the boy’s hands behind his back and grasped them in one of his own.

“Believe me, before we leave this room, you will give me this!” Jared vowed. He jerked the boy’s breeches down, exposing lovely, solid, cream-colored globes, and struck the first blow before his mate could protest.

Jensen maintained his silence for as long as he could, but after the twentieth strike, he groaned in pain. He hadn’t been treated thus since early in his youth. The day he skipped Academy and joined Christian on the banks of the Risach to watch the swimmers make their journey toward the great, blue waters. It occurred each New quarter-turn, but it was the first time Jensen had seen it—and now it seemed, it would be the last. Tears fell from his eyes as he realized that he had seen his last of family, friends—of anything Pershebe. That day had been worth the beating his father had given him, tenfold.

“One word,” Jared reminded him, not holding back on the blows. “Just your name, and I will let you loose, for now.”

At the sound of the alien voice speaking his language, Jensen’s resolve strengthened. He began to fight once more, pushing against his captor and trying to rise to his knees.

Jared laughed again. “Oh, don’t give me ideas, love.” He accentuated his words by pressing his groin against the younger man’s naked ass. “Now you must give me two admissions. Now I require your name and your age. Tell me, how many tides have you turned?” He spoke slowly, making sure to phrase his request in words the youth would understand before pushing him back to the ground and resuming the punishment. For that was exactly what it was. If he could not tame his mate with kindness and love, he would do so with a heavy hand. They had many annums to spend together, and Jared intended them to become pleasant as soon as possible.

Jensen gasped as he felt the hardness against his bared ass, and his struggling ceased. He allowed himself to be pushed back to the ground.

“I am named Jensen,” he hissed, hoping the sneer was obvious in his tone. But the blows didn’t cease.

“Jensen, hmm…I like the sound of it. You may keep that name. But you must still give me more,” Jared demanded, grinning at the dark pink cheeks below him. He ached to rub them and feel the heat seep into his fingers. “Tell me how old you are!”

Jensen howled following a particularly hard slap. He felt each blow deeply now. “N-nineteen!” He screamed, “I have seen nineteen turns of the tide!”

Jared stopped immediately, changing his touches to soft, soothing caresses. “That can’t have been so difficult for you. It was but your name and age.” He pulled away and released Jensen’s hands, still remaining wary of what the younger man might attempt.

Apparently his mate was momentarily cowed, for Jensen remained in place, gasping and panting, but making no effort to rise from the ground. “Yes. Yes it was,” he whispered.

“It needn’t be,” Jared explained. “Come, Jensen. You are dirty and require a bath.”

_______________


	2. No way out

[ Part I ](http://spn-j2fan.livejournal.com/2378.html#cutid1)

Jared steadily pushed him toward the door. Jensen resisted, staring over his shoulder at the basket of Pelunga berries he’d abandoned when he attacked the prince.

“What are they?” Jared inquired kindly. When Jensen again refused to answer, the prince shook his head in frustration. “You have two options, Jensen. You can tell me what they are, or you can lose them forever. The choice is yours.”

Jensen huffed in frustration, still feeling the sincerity of Jared’s last avowal burning feverishly in his backside. He would simply have to plan his next attack farther in advance. For now, he couldn’t risk losing the treasure that had enticed him, lured him even, into his current circumstance. That one act had come at too high a price.

“They are berries. I study them,” Jensen admitted, dropping his chin lower before continuing more softly, “It’s what I do.”

The prince stopped abruptly. “I have no desire to stifle your interests. You are free to continue your pursuits.” Jensen lifted his chin, chancing a glance toward the taller man. The glimmer of hope in his eye came a little too soon. “When I do not require your presence, you may use your time as you see fit,” Jared continued.

Before opening the door, Jared helped Jensen to his feet; and nearly at the same time, raised the younger man’s soggy trousers high enough to cover his stinging ass. But Jensen was certain that his face was still reddened and tear-streaked, and his hair looked and smelled like that of one of his father’s farm-labor animals after a day’s toil during the heavy rainfall of the High-heat quarter-turn.

A moment later, the door slid open again, and it was all Jensen could do to hide his embarrassment over his disheveled appearance, and his seemingly easy capitulation. The guardsmen didn’t say a word, or even offer a grin, but Jensen still felt their eyes upon him.

“Clean up the visitation quarters,” Jared ordered, staring directly at one of the four men. “And take that basket to my residence unharmed.”

The relief that his berries would remain unmolested, his concern about his appearance, and the unfamiliar faces, left Jensen bewildered and unwilling to fight the weighty feel of Jared’s huge hand wrapped firmly about his upper arm. Jensen drifted along in the prince’s grip, which effectively guided the sopping wet youth in exactly the direction Jared wanted him to go.

Jensen finally hesitated once they turned a corner and he looked down a long, colorless hallway. Glancing behind him, Jensen saw that the three remaining guards still trailed behind them—the fourth presumably following the prince’s commands.

“Shh, Jensen,” Jared soothed. “We are almost there.”

As strange as it seemed, at that moment, that voice and that body were the only things familiar in Jensen’s new surroundings, and he found that oddly comforting.

________________

Another door slid open, and Jared pushed Jensen through it. The young Pershebian barely stayed on his feet. Feeling somehow betrayed, Jensen peered back at the prince as the door closed behind them both.

“Strip!” Jared demanded.

“What?” Jensen gasped, wrapping his arms about himself in a desperate attempt to hide what little the prince hadn’t already seen.

“Come now, my young mate,” Jared laughed. “You can’t have thought this day would end with you fully clothed.”

“I … I,” Jensen struggled with even the first hint of comprehension. “I never…”

“Of course you have never...” Jared left the end of the sentence open. It was the least he could offer his innocent mate. “You have not yet seen your twentieth turn…”

“It is forbidden,” Jensen interrupted. “I have never…”

“Been naked before another,” Jared once again filled in. Each time he completed Jensen’s disjointed thoughts, the youth’s eyes grew wider.

“It is forbidden on Pershebe. It is _required_ on Fayar.” Jared paused a moment for his words to sink in before approaching the younger man again, and ripping the wet, filthy shirt from Jensen’s chest. “You see,” he explained, “Today is _my_ twenty-fifth _turn_ , and on this day I must claim my mate. So while you have never before been naked in front of another, today you will lose more than just your clothing.”

_____________

Jensen’s vision was blurry; he blinked several times, still unable to make anything out. In the mean time, he was forced to rely on his other senses. The ground beneath him was cool, but hard, so there was no way he had fallen asleep along the bank of the Risach.

The air was warm and dry, but he didn’t hear the crackle of the fire, so he could not be lying on the floor of his home.

What little air movement he felt ghosted across his skin, every inch of it, so he must be alone.

“Hey, are you back with me?” It was a voice Jensen had heard before, recently he thought.

Realization returned suddenly, and Jensen tried to move away. The man was looming over him, trapping him in place. “No,” Jensen gasped.

“So, you _are_ back,” The tall foreigner, Jared, replied with a grin. “I don’t know if you stumbled and fell, or just fainted. Let’s go with fell, shall we?”

“I, I didn’t fall,” Jensen averred. It seemed a bit pathetic, even to him.

“Then would you rather I think that you fainted? Have I such an effect on you?” Jared’s smirk remained.

“You have no effect on me!” Jensen struggled again. He glanced down long enough to see that he had been stripped bare. He stopped immediately—his body going completely lax—and dropped his eyes from the alien prince.

“What is it?” Jared questioned, wondering what had taken the fight out of his mate. He rather enjoyed the youth’s determination. The prince had been honest when he told the younger man that he did not intend to repress Jensen’s interests. Jared wanted his mate to be happy in his Fayarian life.

“You have taken everything from me. I am nothing now,” Jensen whispered. Why not admit it? He didn’t have anything left to lose.

“Oh, my poor love,” Jared soothed. He reached a hand down to caress gently along his mate’s side, but the way Jensen shrank away from the touch made it clear that the gesture did not have it’s intended effect. Jared pulled his hand away. There would be time for that later. “You have lost nothing. It is simply what you have been told. What your Elders have trained you to believe.”

Jensen raised his eyes, but only slightly, and Jared took that as a cue to continue.

“Long ago, the leaders of your people made an agreement with the King of Fayar at the time. We would have overpowered Pershebe—run your planet into ruin in search of the precious resources that we require to maintain our realm. In exchange for our…generosity, they agreed to preserve their youths’ purity. _Your_ Elders arranged it so that we would be able to claim one untarnished youth each time an heir reached maturity.” He looked down into Jensen’s skeptical eyes. “Did it never occur to you that the day you were allowed to share yourself with another was the day you were released from the 'drills'?"

“No!” Jensen growled, renewing his fight.

Jared held him in place for a moment longer. “Good, I am glad to see your spirit returned.” And with that comment, he let go and stepped back. “I could have bathed you as you slept, but it didn’t seem—proper. So I waited for you to wake.” He gestured behind Jensen. “Will you bathe with me, or must I force you to be clean? The choice is yours.”

Jensen followed the older man’s gesture, and looked upon a huge, water-filled trough. Not as big as a pond, but certainly larger than any rain-collector he had ever seen.

_The choice._ Jensen had heard those words before; and taking what seemed the best option at the time had led him to where he was right now. Trusting this man, even if only for a moment, had been a mistake. He rolled away and jumped to his feet. “Get away from me!” Jensen spat.

Jared shook his head. “It is but you and I here, and I have already overpowered you. Do you think this is your best choice, Jensen?”

The young Pershebian did not like the sound of his name on the other man’s tongue. Still feeling the sting of the spanking, he regretted divulging even that much information. “There is no choice!” He insisted. “There is but right and wrong. And this is wrong! I am not yet…”

“Twenty turns,” Jared finished. “But here you are, standing gloriously naked in front of me. And before I take what is mine by right, I want you clean. So I will ask you but once more. Will you bathe with me, or shall I throw you in the water and scrub the filth from your skin and your hair?”

The challenge was clear, and Jensen vowed not to take the easy way out again. He would fight, up until his death, if that was what it required. He turned slightly to his right, so that as he backed away from Jared, he was not leading himself toward the water.

“Never say I didn’t offer you the opportunity to maintain some dignity this night,” Jared warned as he slowly approached the youth.

Jensen prepared for a confrontation, perhaps a blow to the face. He stood with his legs slightly apart, left in front of right, and his fists raised, like Chris had shown him. But the prince barreled toward him, dipping low and grabbing the younger man high about his thighs and hoisting him over one shoulder. Before Jensen could do more than yelp in protest, Jared hurried to the awaiting bath and tossed the naked youth in.

Jensen sputtered. He could swim, he did not fear water, but this treatment was like nothing he had experienced before.

“Stay,” Jared commanded as Jensen reached for an edge. “You will be clean, and I will gladly do the job. But if you fight me more right now, I will summon the guardsmen to assist.”

Again, Jensen gasped. It was bad enough to be naked before one man, but to be touched and looked upon by so many? It was surely more than he could tolerate.

“I have only until the start of the morn to claim you, and as much as I would have you willing, the time for explanations has past.” Jared sat at the edge of the bath and waited to see what Jensen would do next. When the youth stepped back, Jared slid into the water beside him.

“May I wash myself?” Jensen asked, once more averting his gaze. He had been bested again—the second time since he met the prince.

“No,” Jared insisted. “Not tonight. But you need not look away. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I am nothing but shame,” Jensen whispered, hoping it was low enough that he alone heard it. He let go of all resistance and stood still as the Heir of Fayar approached.

Jared grabbed a thick Illearian cloth. It would be plush and silky-smooth against his soon-to-be lover’s skin, while at the same time leaving a tingling, heated sensation behind. Few had felt such luxury, and the prince was certain that it would be a new experience for his mate.

Jensen stood still, feeling the cloth, the suds of the scented soap, and the trailing fingers against his skin. He shivered despite the warm water. Jared made soft, soothing sounds, but they meant nothing to the young Pershebian. He was lost in shame and sensation—trying not to acknowledge the prickle on his skin that followed the prince’s touch as he wiped the grime off of every inch of Jensen’s body with gentle, almost clinical proficiency.

“Lean your head back, Jensen,” Jared encouraged. And as if without thought, Jensen allowed the older man to dip his head back and massage soap into his shoulder-length hair. “It should be shorter. You are so beautiful, you should not hide behind your hair.”

When they finished, Jensen felt himself in a trance. Jared guided him out of the bath and wrapped him in a huge, thick cloth—one that covered him from shoulder to toe. It was then that Jensen felt his strength returning. He resisted Jared’s grip.

“Don’t start again, Jensen,” Jared warned before softening his tone. “Do you need help? I can offer you an elixir to make this night easier. Although I would rather have you entirely yourself our first time.”

“ _Our first time_?” Jensen questioned, half awake. “I am tired. This day has been overlong, and I need sleep.”

The prince drew far enough away that the youth could see his firm expression. “You will have time to recover, my love, but it will not be this night. You have already been naked before me, so you need not fear. I will have you tonight. The only choice you have is whether I give you the draught to make you pliant, or you give yourself to me of your own free will.”

“Your choices are no choices,” Jensen replied, rousing himself. “I do not understand your words, so I have no choice. My only option is to is remain myself.”

Jared nodded sincerely. He had felt an incredible bond with, and desire to claim his mate from the moment he sensed Jensen’s presence outside the fleet ship; but he was beginning to admire the younger man’s courage and inner strength as well. “I will not take that from you. But I will do my best to cause you no harm.”

Jensen raised a quizzical brow. None of the prince’s words made sense to him. And then he gasped again as Jared lifted him from the ground. “Put me down! I am not a babe; I can walk just fine!”

Jared chuckled softly, cradling his mate in his arms. “You can’t walk wrapped in the cloth as you are. So again, I offer you a choice. Would you rather walk naked, or allow me to carry you, covered, and without a fight?”

The Pershebian sighed heavily, dropping his resistance. Already, he had come to loathe the prince’s choices.

_____________

Jared smiled as he walked past the guardsmen, his prize in his arms. He knew that none had accomplished so much, so soon. But Jared preferred words to battle, when it came to a lover. And he hoped to call Jensen “lover” very soon. A consummated mate he would have before the night was complete, but he wanted more than just that.

As the door to his residence quarters opened with a simple glance at the panel, Jared proudly carried his bundle inside. He looked around to make sure all was in place. The scented candles were lit, and the bed was turned down—pillows spread across it haphazardly. Even Jensen’s basket of berries was set in a prominent position on a stand just under one of the dimmed lights.

“You see,” Jared prodded, “Your berries are here. When we are finished, and you have recovered, you may study them as much as you like.” As gently and reverently as he could, the prince placed his package on the bed, and slowly tugged the cloth until the youth was completely revealed. “You are a treasure!” Jared exclaimed.

Jensen once again moved to cover himself. All he had within reach was a pillow or two. “Please, my Lord,” he begged.

The heir sighed heavily, those simple words giving much more pleasure than Jensen had intended. “Say it again.”

“What?” Jensen questioned, “What must I say to earn clothing and sleep?”

Jared scowled, the mood broken. “I told you already, the time for explanations has past.” He settled on the bed and grabbed Jensen’s chin, placing a firm kiss on those lovely pink lips that had called to him all evening.

“No!” Jensen panted, pulling away. Finally, he began to understand what was happening. Chris had explained a few things after reaching his twentieth turn. “No, I won’t…you can’t!”

“Oh, love,” Jared attempted to remain calm despite the arousal that had been growing steadily since the moment he first sensed Jensen’s presence. “I can, and I will. The only option you have is how much you will resist. I would rather not hurt you, but I _will_ have you.”

Jensen was completely free of the restraining cloth now, so he fought hard. He swung a fist toward Jared’s jaw, and felt a moment’s satisfaction when he heard the prince’s teeth clack together. And then he used his legs to kick and push the prince away.

“Fight me, Jensen, if that is what you need. I will not call the guards in to assist.” Jared hissed between jabs. He easily countered the majority of Jensen’s punches and kicks; and waited patiently until his young mate had exhausted most of his strength.

Finally, he reined in Jensen’s fists, lifting them above his head on the mattress, and pushed himself between the younger man’s thighs, obviating any further resistance. Licking his lips and leering down at his mate, Jared continued, “You cannot imagine how your spirit kindles my desire. How would you like it, my love? Do you want to see my face as I take you, or would you rather hide in the pillows your first time?”

Jensen snarled. He had nothing left to defend himself with but his mouth. He gathered a wad and spat directly onto the prince’s face. “I want nothing from you at all!”

Jared let loose a feral roar. That was it! He could take no more of this gentle attempt at claiming. He leaned down and wiped the spittle across Jensen’s brow before rising high enough to turn the young man beneath him.

“No more!” The heir proclaimed. “I tried. Mother, please forgive me! I tried to be kind!”

Jensen attempted to get his elbows beneath him, but Jared pushed him back down. “Don’t move!” He commanded as he shuffled farther into the “v” between his mate’s thighs, all the earlier gentleness gone.

“Please,” Jensen began, tears again streaking down his face. He had much more to fear now than a simple beating. “Please, do not do this!”

Jared used his powerful legs to shove his young mate’s thighs wider, and then he spread those glorious cheeks apart with his thumbs. He left the younger man’s hands unattended above his head, confident that Jensen was too terrified to move them.

“What would you have me do instead, Jensen?” Jared challenged. “Would you have me rub your back and whisper kindnesses in your ear? Or would you have me lick your sweet hole until you beg for more? Be cautious what you ask for, because if you say ‘stop,’ it will only be worse.”

Jensen groaned and cried, but didn’t utter a word. This was torture, plain and simple, so whatever “worse” was, he didn’t want to know it.

“Hold yourself still, so that I can prepare you,” Jared instructed his mate. Orders seemed to work better than all the coddling he had tried thus far. But this time his command met nothing but resistance. Jensen swung an arm back, trying to push the prince away, and very nearly connecting at a point that would have seriously jeopardized the rest of the night.

“Dammit! Would you have me injure you?!” The heir demanded, again gathering the youth’s hands in one of his own, positioning them near the headboard, and pressing them firmly against the bed.

“I would have you send me into the Great Darkness!” Jensen responded immediately, all the docility following the bath abandoned.

There was nothing left to do but surge forward. Jared’s path was set long before he left for his journey. It began in his youth, first under his mother’s, and then after she passed, under his grandfather’s tutelage. Then it continued on Terengala, and gained another foothold in the Illearian Colonies. There was naught else for him to do but peremptorily slick his cock and continue forward.

And that is what he did. He took just long enough to coat himself in the cool, slick gel that would ease his way, if only slightly. And if Jensen was fortunate, it would have a soothing effect once their coupling was complete.

“Ahhh…” Jared groaned, feeling the head of his cock prodding at the tiny hole, seeking entrance. “Relax, Jen. Let me in. It will be better for you!” That was all he could say, suddenly lost in the sensation. The prince’s mind was no longer in charge, and his cock pushed steadily past the resisting muscle.

“N-n-n-nooo!” Jensen hissed. His entrance tried to thwart the penetration and clenched tight. He lowered his hips as far as possible into the mattress, but there was no escape. The prince thrust forward, steadily breaching him. The pain and the intense burn were overwhelming. Jensen bit his lip and tried to contain his cries, but even burying his face in the pillow merely muffled his screams. As Jared pulled back and thrust forward, again and again, Jensen lost himself. He might not be able to escape in body, but he could do so in mind.

The harvest was nearly upon them and all the students at Academy looked forward to the days off. It always occurred in the middle of the Changing quarter-turn. Not all students had farms to work on, but they all had the time off. Jensen looked forward to the menial labor, it reminded him of how hard his parent’s worked to allow him to attend his classes and cultivate his own talents.

A grind and pull momentarily drew him away from the farm. A low moan. Sweat dripping down on him…

The animals would sweat in different ways, Jensen remembered. The larger ones glistened with their effort, and required cool water against their coats to keep them from overheating. The smaller animals merely panted.

Jensen was panting. It was work, and he needed to release heat.

“Don’t you try to hide from me!” Jared growled, interrupting his lovely dream. “When I come, you will be right here with me. If not coming with me, you will certainly feel and remember it.”

Jensen didn’t fight as the prince pulled his hips off the bed. He felt a huge hand wrap around his soft shaft, fondling it for a moment before letting it drop. Jared’s hips steadily, relentlessly pounded forward, the only thing keeping Jensen up was the prince’s firm grip.

The pace sped up, Jensen wanted to think he was numb by now, but it wasn’t true. Each thrust hurt more and more, his body continuing to resist the intrusion.

“So tight. So…pure. Gonna…gonna…ahhhh!!” Jared’s words froze, as did his hips after a series of half-thrusts and stutters. The thick shaft inside Jensen throbbed and pulsed. Heat filled the young man, and then Jared’s motions started again, slower and more languid this time.

For a moment, it seemed easier, smoother, but then tiny slivers of pain cut deep into the crevices within Jensen’s body. As Jared pulled out, lying exhausted next to his claimed mate, Jensen drew himself into a silent ball.

He hurt. He didn’t need to cry, his body sobbed for him. He had lost everything: his family, his honor, and his pride. And all he had left was pain and a slowly cooling, thickening liquid oozing out of his body.

“Shhh, baby,” Jared cooed. “I promise to make you feel better.” He wrapped an arm around Jensen and drifted off to sleep.

There was no better, Jensen knew. He tried to relax. He was exhausted and ruined, but sleep evaded him. There was no escape here, at least not while he still lived. But…perhaps he was not meant to see his twentieth turn.

His eyes drifted closed.

___________

Jensen woke as a sudden chill crept across his throat. The smooth, cool sensation continued until it encircled his neck completely. Hopefully, his last wishes were coming true. Could it be that the prince had taken what he wanted, and in return chose to grant Jensen his final request? If so Jensen intended to make it easy. He went limp and lifted his chin, offering his neck unrestrainedly. All Jensen desired now was the Great Darkness. Surely that was a gift the prince would give in return for his own.

The sound of a soft _click_ replaced what Jensen had hoped would be his own last gasps, and the young Pershebian opened his eyes again, finding himself face-to-face with the man who had just taken everything from him.

Wait…

His skin was clean. He had clothing on. How long had he been here—sleeping, or worse—with his rapist staring down upon him? Jensen didn’t try to diminish the prince’s crimes, but that still left him where he now was—alone and without honor. No one—not even his parents—would give him succor. God! After this night, even Chris, his lifelong friend, would no longer acknowledge him. As much as Jensen knew that Chris had eagerly awaited his younger friend’s twentieth turn; after this night, not even Chris would offer him shelter. Jensen was lost and alone.

“Are you well?” Jared asked softly. “I washed you and applied a healing balm, but you have been asleep for some time now. Have you returned to me, my mate?”

Jensen had no fight left in him. Where else could he go? Yet, he couldn’t lose all that he was. Turning his eyes farther away from the prince, he sighed heavily before mustering the energy to respond. His voice quaked as he spoke, “You…you have taken all from me but my life. I would have you take that as well. I beg you, My Lord, send me on my path into the Great Darkness, for you have made me nothing here. I am nothing, certainly not your mate.”

Jared chuckled, and that was as alarming as anything that had happened in the last— _Des_? _Septama_? How long had it been since he left Academy and wandered in search of his berries?

_The fruitless pursuits of youth._ His parents often scolded after he returned from his wanderings. Now they were proven correct.

“Oh, you are everything to me. You _are_ my life’s companion,” Jared asserted. The prince’s fingers traced the path of the cold sensation that Jensen had felt moments earlier. Now the cool trail felt more like a heavy, all-encompassing metal prison. The prince used his free hand to grab one of his young mate’s hands and pull it up to feel along the line he continued to stimulate. “Feel that,” Jared insisted, “That is…”

“Captivity,” Jensen gasped, the obvious sensation of a metallic band suddenly coming to mind. He had seen a few criminals on Pershebe thus adorned. It was reserved for the very worst—those who had attempted to usurp the authority of the Elders. The Unfortunates. They were scorned and scathed derisively. The Unfortunates were released into the care of Soil-masters in the distant regions, sentenced to a life of labor without personal gain. Was that what Jensen had earned? Certainly, after this night, he deserved no better. “You would collar me?” He asked helplessly, all rebellion gone. His eyes fluttered closed. “So, I was right. You do plan to make a slave of me."

Jared saw how serious his young mate’s pleas were. Oh, Jensen might not view them as pleas, but the prince certainly did. Jared did his best not to grin. It was much easier to contain the humor than he expected. Perhaps he didn’t find it quite as amusing as he thought his mate’s naiveté might be. Again he caressed the chain of fine Arganthium links. “Oh no, my love,” Jared whispered, “I do not seek to enslave you. That is not at all what this chain means. Touch it.” Jared moved his hand out of the way so that Jensen’s fingers could feel the elegant links without interference. “I fought for this,” he hummed in Jensen’s ear. “On my twenty-first ascension—that is the same as your ‘turn of the tide,’ you must learn my language as well as I have learned yours—I ventured to Terangala and battled against their fiercest warriors to obtain this.” Again, his fingers traced the sleek metal chain encircling his mate’s neck. “It fit perfectly around your neck, and locked in place the moment it touched your beautiful skin. That can only occur when the Arganthium that I fought for touches the flesh of my mate.”

Jensen was again lost for comment. The links were cool against his fingers, yet not confining. He moved his head from side to side, and the metal did not hinder his motion.

“It is not meant to restrict your movement,” Jared explained after watching his young mate’s experimentation. “It is a precious gift that I will give to only one for as long as I live,” he vowed, hoping that even if Jensen did not completely trust him, he would find at least a small measure of security in the prince’s words.

“Gift?” Jensen questioned suspiciously. His fingers still rubbed across the fine links of the chain. “I think not. It is a shackle, a fetter.” Without forethought, he grabbed at the delicate metal and pulled hard to rip it from his throat. “Arrgghh!” He screamed.

Jared pulled his young lover’s fingers away from the delicate, but formidable links. “Stop, Jensen,” he scolded. “It can’t be removed. Our mating sealed the lock. It is yours forever.”

Jensen screamed again, shaking violently. “I don’t want it! I don’t want it! Take it off!”

“I can’t,” Jared responded gruffly. “Not that I would do so if I could, but I can’t.” He shuffled farther to one side of the bed and lifted a small, crimson colored box from the table beside. “The chain is yours as long as I live, as is your place at my side. You have to offer nothing more than you have already given to earn that. But this,” the heir continued reverently, slowly lifting the lid from the delicate box. “This is yours to give.”

Jared held up the crimson and silver medallion. Jensen didn’t bother to make out the detail. “When you accept your place in my life, and your place on Fayar, you alone can attach this to your chain. I want you at my side. I desire your strength and your spirit, but I will have to wait for you to give that to me, as all rulers of Fayar have had to do.”

Jensen pushed the extended hand and the box away. “Never!” He yelled. “Take me home! You will never have from me what you seek!”

Jared huffed, dropping the pendant back into its box. He pulled out a drawer by the bed and placed the box within. “It will be here when you are ready for it.”

“I won’t,” Jensen declared, “I won’t ever be ready. You have taken all from me! I will give you nothing in return!”

“What?” The prince questioned. “Tell me what I have taken from you?”

“My…my,” Jensen stammered.

“Virginity,” Jared supplied in Fayarian.

“What is that word?” Jensen didn’t know what else to say.

“It means your ‘gift;’ what you would offer your life’s companion on Pershebe. It is the Fayarian word for ‘your personal gift.’ Learn it.” Jared declared.

“So you know what you have stolen from me?” Jensen gasped, looking even more devastated than before.

“I have stolen nothing,” Jared assured. “Your Elders gave me the right to it more than a thousand years before you were born. You are only now learning of it. But I wish only to cherish it. I wish to share my life and my throne with you. I want you at my side willingly, but if you will never come to me willingly, I will take you however I must.”

“I will never come to you willingly,” Jensen swore, and he meant it. If it took his whole life, he would escape and tell his fellow Pershebian’s what a farce the Elders had made of their lives.

“Then I will have you unwilling,” the prince asserted. “I am the Heir of Fayar, and I will have what I require.”

The words left Jensen unsettled, but he knew naught else to say.

“Sleep, my love,” Jared’s tone turned tender once again. “This day has indeed been overlong. You must rest.” Despite Jensen’s best attempts, he fell asleep as the prince stroked the fine chain about his neck.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would be so delighted if you let me know what you think. This verse is near and dear to me, and any input would be wonderful


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